Rumor has it the FOUR HORSEMEN are looking for a vacation home. Beware: the Gottmans say these riders can make for a rough ride.

And as if that bad news wasn’t bad enough, most of us ride these ponies without even noticing we’re in the saddle.

So before anybody gets bucked off, let’s meet the horses:

CRITICISM isn’t complaining about something your partner did. It’s turning what they did into a judgment about who they are. “You forgot” becomes “You’re selfish. You never think about anybody but yourself.”

CONTEMPT adds superiority to the mix: sarcasm, mockery, eye-rolling, name-calling, or that unmistakable “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you” attitude. The Gottmans consider this one particularly dangerous to relationships.

DEFENSIVENESS is “Yeah, but YOU…” Instead of dealing with what your partner just brought up, you explain, excuse, counterattack, or hand the blame right back.

STONEWALLING is checking out. You go quiet, stop responding, look away, leave, or otherwise disappear from the conversation when it becomes too much.

If you look over toward the paddock, you can see the Gottmans holding forth on their antidotes to these Horsemen.

What’re you ridin’ these days?

For those of us in remedial riding, I think we gotta start a little earlier.

First thing:
NOTICE THE HORSE WE’RE RIDING.

Here’s what I mean, my fellow buckaroos: Most of us grew up around some version of this horseplay every day. Criticism, defensiveness, contempt, shutting down—it wasn’t necessarily anybody’s grand strategy for destroying a relationship. It was just how folks talked. How they argued. How they protected themselves. It was normal.

More clinically: We learned these “communication methods” in our families of origin. We watched people argue this way, protect themselves this way, and avoid conflict this way. We’ve practiced them for years without ever realizing we’re practicing anything.

And that’s the tricky part: when something feels normal, you don’t notice it.

To return to our admittedly cheesy metaphor, from inside the saddle, the Horseman usually doesn’t look like a Horseman.

Here’s what I mean:

  • The critic isn’t necessarily thinking, I’m criticizing my partner.They’re thinking, I’ve asked you twelve times.
  • The defensive partner isn’t thinking, I’m being defensive.They’re thinking, Wait a minute. That’s not what happened.
  • The stonewaller isn’t thinking, I’m stonewalling.They’re thinking, Nothing I say is going to make this better, so I’m done.
  • Even contempt tends to come with its own justification: Seriously? We’re doing this again?

So pay attention. These horses don’t announce themselves—they just wander in and start chewing up the corral. Notice when one shows up in you. Notice when one trots into the space between you and your partner. Don’t worry about fixing anything yet. Just learn to spot when you’ve swung a leg over the wrong saddle. Or swung it over the saddle wrong. Whatever.

And here’s the good news: once you learn to recognize the Horsemen, it’s surprisingly hard not to see them.

Meanwhile, over in the paddock…

The Gottmans have antidotes for each Horseman — start more gently instead of criticizing, build appreciation instead of contempt, take responsibility instead of getting defensive, and take a real breather instead of shutting your partner out.

All good medicine. But you don’t change horses when the bumpy ride still feels like “home on the range.”

So start small. Pay attention.

At first, you’ll only spot it twenty minutes after the dust-up: Well, dang… I did that thing again.

Later, you’ll catch it five minutes afterward.

Eventually, you’ll hear yourself doing it while it’s happening.

And someday you’ll feel your hand reaching for the saddle and think, Nope. I know this horse.

That’s progress.

The goal isn’t to become some saint who never gets defensive, never criticizes, never shuts down, and sure as sunrise never rolls an eye. Ain’t gonna happen.

The real goal is learning to recognize the horse you’re riding while there’s still time to choose what happens next. Maybe you need to step back and cool off. Maybe you need to say what you actually mean, own your part, or listen instead of loading up your next comeback. Whatever the move, you’ve got a lot more choices once you realize you’re holding the reins. That’s good horsemanship.

And if you’re getting pretty good at spotting the Horsemen trotting around your relationship but still can’t seem to rein ’em in?

Well, that’s pretty much why I keep my lantern on.

So tell me, partner—any of these four already keep a toothbrush at your place?